


now that i thought of you (things will never be the same)

by JonsaInTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Halloween AU, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-16 13:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20831120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonsaInTheNorth/pseuds/JonsaInTheNorth
Summary: Following a breakup with her boyfriend a week before the Tyrells' big Halloween party, Sansa Stark needs a partner for the couples costume she spent weeks designing. Her brother's best friend, Jon Snow-Targaryen, volunteers to be her match.





	1. something gave you the nerve

**Author's Note:**

> All titles from Taylor Swift's _ Lover _ album.

Sansa flops on the couch next to Robb with an uncharacteristically dramatic huff. She grabs a blanket from the pile and wraps it round her shoulders, curling up into a ball and tucking her feet under her. He shoots his sister a look before turning back to his video game and speaking into his headphones. “Hey guys, don’t say anything too vulgar. My little sister just came into the den.” He waits for a beat, eyes intently focused on the warrior running across the ruins of a castle and slashing at other fighters. “_No, Theon_, she is not single and you are not _ever_ allowed to ask her that.”

“Actually, I am.” Sansa pipes up. When Robb looks over at her with concern, she adds, “But I still have no interest in Theon.”

“Guys, I gotta go.”

Sansa shakes her head. “Don’t quit your game on my behalf.”

Robb has already removed his headpiece and exited out of the game, though. He sets the remote control to the side. “What happened? Do I need to go beat Harry’s ass? I can have him bloody in the next hour.”

Sansa laughs, a faint cringe flickering across her face. “I’m fine, really.”

Robb knows his sister though. He knows that light, airy laugh was the fake one she used to cover up her little white lies, to let the people around her know she was fine when she wanted to cry. He scoots over on the couch and wraps his arms around Sansa’s shoulder, timing it perfectly with the first giant, heaving sob to bubble up her throat.

Robb pulls Sansa in and she tucked her head in the crook of his arm, holding the delicate girl while she let her emotions spill. Both his sisters are dreamers - all the Stark children are - but it iz Sansa whose heart was hurt the easiest. Arya dreams of her career and her future, making cheer captain and winning fencing tournaments. But Sansa’s dreams are loftier, more romantic: falling in love and raising a large, happy family like the Starks own one.

He rubs circles on his sister’s back while she sobs into his arms, spilling snot and tears all over his favorite jersey. But that’s why they have a washing machine, anyway, so Robb just lets her cry and tries to offer her his comfort and protection.

When Sansa’s quivering had stopped and her sobs have turned to hiccups, Robb pulls back. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Not really.” She shakes her head, the tassels on the blanket bobbing back and forth. “Can I get a tissue, though?”

Robb hands her the entire box from the coffee table. “I always thought that Harry was an ass.”

“I broke up with him. Margaery saw him cuddling at the movie theater with some girl named Saffron from Vale High.”She hiccups and blows her nose. “They were seeing _Florian and Jonquil_, which him and I were supposed to go see next week.”

“I’m sorry, Sansa. You don’t deserve that.” He rubs another gentle circle on her back as another sob pulls from her throat.

She wipes a tissue over her red, tear-stained eyes. “I just feel like such an _idiot_. I know we’ve only been dating for a few months, but I really thought he could be the one.”

There’s a knock on the door to the den that stops Robb from responding. Sansa and Robb both look over to see their mother standing in the entryway. Sansa quickly blinks away her tears, trying not to let Catelyn see the sadness there. But Catelyn’s eagle eyes catch on quickly.

“Sansa, what’s wrong?” Her brow creases in concern and she steps into the room. “Are you alright?”

“Harry and I broke up, is all.” Sansa sniffles in defeat. “I’m fine though, really.”

“I’m sorry, love.” Catelyn sets a gentle, manicured hand on Sansa’s shoulder and squeezes “Do you want to come upstairs and talk about it? “

“I’m okay right now, but thanks, Mom.” Sansa pulls the blanket round her shoulders closer to her chin.

“Alright.” Catelyn says, although the look on her face belies that she doesn’t believe her daughter. “Jon just came over to see Robb, although I didn’t know we were expecting him.”

Robb looks just as confused as his mother. “I wasn’t.”

As if hearing his name, Jon appears in the doorway where just a moment ago Catelyn had stood. He has a large tupperware container in one hand and Rickon Stark in the other. The russet-haired toddler struggles in Jon’s arms, trying to toss himself over Jon’s shoulders. “I’m gonna take you down!”

Sansa laughs, a real, true laugh, as Jon fakes a fall into the den. Rickon lands gently on Jon’s side, the two of them a tangle of limbs. Jon cries out, “Yield! Yield! I yield, you’ve won!” and Rickon stands up triumphantly, his foot in the middle of Jon’s back. 

Sansa smiles at him, her face instantly brightening. Jon’s cheeks redden as he rises. “Sorry for taking so long. I got attacked up in the hallway.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jon.” Catelyn says. “Will you be staying for dinner?”

“Not tonight, Mrs. Stark, but thank you. My cousins are coming over for dinner and Mum made enough lasagna to feed an army.” Jon ruffles Rickon’s hair as he toddles over to his mother. “I just wanted to let Robb know he left his microphone on the team channel.”

Robb’s face whitens immediately and he meets Sansa’s wide-eyed gaze. He immediately flicks it off and pulls the jack out of his gaming remote.

“I’m going to head upstairs and finish dinner, but let me know if you need anything.” Catelyn lifts Rickon up onto her hip and makes to exit.

“Mom, could I get a cup of tea, please?” Sansa asks, eyes big and wet. “It’s chilly down here.”

“Anyone else? Is mint alright?”

The boys both nod in affirmation. Rickon looks ready to leap from his mother’s arms, like he’s grasping for some invisible butterfly in the air. “Robb, can you help me with your brother and carry the mugs down?”

Robb stands and takes Rickon from his mother’s hands. “I’ll be back in a few.”

They disappear from the den and Jon bends down to pick up the red-lidded tupperware. He sits besides Sansa on the couch and they both wait in silence. Sheepishly, he hands it over to Sansa. “My mum has been baking all day. From what I heard through the headphones I figured you might need something sweet right now.”

Sansa opens the box and, upon seeing the lemon cakes and sugar cookies inside, immediately breaks into a fresh round of crying. Jon gently pats her shoulder until she is breathing normally again. Sansa pulls out a lemon cake, a treat they’ve all known was her favorite since she was three, and eats it in two quick bites. 

“Gods, I’m so embarrassed.” Sansa says, looking down at the pile of treats in front of her, before offering one to Jon. “How many of you were on the call?”

“Just me, Theon, and Sam.” Jon says. Sansa groans and throws her head back against the couch. “It’s really not that bad. Even Theon sounded worried.”

“That’s three too many people.” Sansa responds. “I’m supposed to look strong on Monday when I get back to school. No one was supposed to know what a train wreck I am.”

“I don’t think you’re a train wreck.”

A laugh bubbles up unbidden from Sansa's throat. “You’re just saying that. How can you not think I’m a train wreck, sitting here and crying over a dumb jock who decided to start seeing other girls?”

“Harry’s an ass that thinks that being a second-string football player makes him a god.” Jon says, biting into his cookie. "You deserve someone better. And you'll find them, someday. I promise."

Sansa wipes the tears from her eyes with the corner of her blanket and leans into Jon's touch. It's comforting there, and his body emanates warmth like a fire. The October chill has seeped into the basement and while most of her family loves the cold, Sansa wants warmth right now. He wraps an arm around her, letting her find her comfort where she needs it. "You know the dumbest part of all of this?"

"What's that?"

"The thing that upsets me the most isn't even this other girl or that he took her to see the movie based on my favorite book." Sansa sighs and absentmindedly snuggles closer to Jon's chest, nuzzling her head against his arm. "I'm mostly mad that he couldn't wait until after Halloween because I've spent _weeks_ working on our couples costume for the Tyrells' party next weekend and now I'll have to go alone."

"What were you going to be?" Jon asks. He's truly curious, but also thinks it's a good idea to get her to talk about things that aren't just how sad she is.

"Naerys and the Dragonknight." She smiles sadly, eyes clouding over dreamily in recollection. "I based it off designs in historical costume books with patterns from the 1400s. I even managed to make dragon scale patterned armor. Do you know how long that took? Now I'm just going to be some random medieval queen. No one knows who Naerys is without her knight."

"I'm sure you'd make a fine medieval queen. With you hair you could pull off Elizabeth the First, maybe?" Jon suggests.

Sansa scoffs disdainfully. "It's an early 1400s gown. She was born a century later."

Robb comes in a few minutes later and hands each of them a mug of steaming tea. The mint scent fills the den quickly, hopefully relaxing Sansa. When Robb glares at Jon, he slides away from Robb's sister. "So, what were you two talking about?"

"Halloween costumes." Jon responds, quickly taking a sip of his tea to avoid meeting Robb's harsh eyes. He's going to get yelled at for sitting that close to her, he's sure.

"I don't think I'm going to go to the Tyrells' party." Sansa announces. Jon nearly spits out his mouth of hot tea. Margaery is one of Sansa's closest friends and the party is one of the biggest social events of the year. Jon can't imagine Sansa, Student Body Vice President and Key Club President, not attending.

"Why not?" Robb asks, voice relaying similar opinions. "You've gone every year since middle school!"

"I had a _couples _costume. I'm not in a couple anymore, and it'll look stupid to go alone." Sansa sighs. "Besides, I can't bear the thought of seeing Harry there with _Saffron_."

Robb looks at Jon, eyes misty and unclear. Jon's not sure what his friend is thinking, and he's pretty sure whatever comes next is going to get him in trouble. Robb keeps evaluating him, eyes sweeping over his whole body. He nods and takes a swig of tea, although he doesn't look too happy with what he's about to say. "You can go with Jon."

Sansa blinks. She has obviously not expected that reaction from her brother. "What?"

"Aemon was always his favorite historical character. When I was obsessed with King Arthur, Jon would retcon Aemon onto the round table." Robb laughs, lightening the stiff mood since he came back in.

Sansa observes him thoughtfully from over the rim of her mug. "Your leaner than Harry and a bit taller so I'll need to get new trousers and take in the top, but it could work."

"I uh -" Jon doesn't have a Halloween costume yet, but he isn't sure if this is a good idea. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

"It would be fine. And I could actually go to the party." Sansa smiles softly and Jon feels a strange fluttering in his head. Her big, blue eyes look so hopeful and excited again, so much less than how sad she looked when he first arrived.

"Fine. I'll do it." Jon agrees, but his eyes flash to Robb's, and her brother's gaze suggests they will be having a long conversation about what it means to escort Sansa to the party before Halloween actually arrives.


	2. the whole school is rolling fake dice

The locker slams shut with a satisfying metallic anger, the closest Sansa has come to releasing her emotions in front of her eager, gossipy classmates. Of course, she’s only had one class and homeroom, but she’s been the paragon of cool and collected all morning. There’s two classes to go between now and lunch, and she’s not sure she can keep a smile plastered on her face that long.

Jeyne Poole hands over the Advanced Westerosi History textbook Sansa just removed and raises her eyebrows. “Careful there. You’ve been doing so well.”

Sansa closes her eyes and sighs. She _has_ been doing well. But that was before she saw Harry in the hall, blond hair perfectly tousled and blue eyes shining, with his arm already draped over senior Cissy Stone’s shoulder. They have been broken apart for less than forty-eight hours and he had already found someone else. Meanwhile, she had resorted to refitting his Halloween costume for her brother’s best friend who decided to be her pity partner to the party on Friday.

At least she won’t see him in any of her classes. Almost everything Sansa takes is advanced level or honors - except for regular pre-calculus, her worst subject - and Harry never quite had the intelligence or engagement to keep up with the expanded course load. She only met him because they both took summer gym together. He was there so he could have a study hall, and she only took it to make room for a fiber arts independent study with Mrs. Nan.

“Thanks, Jeyne.” Her friend takes Sansa’s hand and squeezes. “I just want this day to be over.”

“Soon the day will be, and then the week, and then the month. You’ll survive this like you survived the rest.” Jeyne says. “Besides, everyone knows Cissy has slept with half the football team. I’m not surprised she’s the quickest rebound he could find.”

They walk down the hall until they get to the main lobby of the Landing Academy. Jeyne smiles to turn away. “I’ll meet you in the cafeteria after psych? Or do you want to eat outside?”

Sansa shakes her head. “No. I want to be as normal as possible, so people think I’m unfazed. We can sit with Margaery and the others like always.”

Jeyne smiles and heads her own way. “I’ll see you then.”

Sansa makes her way to Advanced Westerosi History and settles into her assigned seat. Just before the bell rings, Margaery steps into the classroom with a cup of iced pumpkin spice latte in each hand. Mr. Luwin rolls his eyes. “I’m glad you could join us, Ms. Tyrell.”

“Sorry, teach. I needed my caffeine fix though, you know?” She smiles brightly, the smile that always gets Margaery what she wants, and he waves her back to her seat besides Sansa. The class is organized alphabetically, which may have been a bad idea on the teacher’s part since it put Stark and Tyrell together.

As Mr. Luwin begins taking attendance, Margaery hands Sansa one of the PSLs. Sansa hadn’t been expecting it, but this drink is an incredible relief. She breaths in the strong scent of cinnamon and cloves, that beautiful smell of autumn, and uses a finger to taste the whipped cream.

“Thank you. I didn’t even know how much I needed this.”

“Yes, but I did.” Margaery settles into her seat and takes out her textbook and notebook. She takes a sip of her drink and turns to Sansa. “Are you doing alright?”

Sansa drinks in her latte. “I’m definitely doing better now. And I found someone to match my costume, so I won’t be skipping your party.”

“Speaking of which, do you know if Robb has a date?” Margaery asks before taking another sip of her iced coffee. “Because I would _love_ to get with that if he doesn’t.”

“Gross, Marg. Please remember he’s my brother.” Sansa makes a face. “But no, he doesn’t.”

“If he’s not your quick-fix match, who is?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” Sansa smiles secretively, thinking of Jon’s mop of black curls and shining grey eyes. To tell the truth, he’ll probably look better in the white armor than Harry ever could, pale and blond and washed out as her ex is. Margaery turns, ready to pester Sansa with questions, but Mr. Luwin’s sharp call of, “Sansa Stark?” interrupts her.

“Here, Mr. Luwin!”

With a giggle, she straightens her back and focuses all her attention on the board, ready to take notes on Robert’s Rebellion and the intense military tactics that led King Robert to win the Battle of Bells. Soon enough, another bell is ringing and sending the students scampering out of the room, with Mr. Luwin calling after them, “And don’t forget, I’m expecting your essays on the use of sigils and symbols in Ancient Westeros by Sunday! Don’t put it off, everyone!”

Sansa’s next class is Honors High Valyrian IV, which she has with an odd mix of students. Her mother had stressed the importance of their education from a young age and made all the children take weekend language classes and attend High Valyrian summer camps. Robb practice at-level, Sansa did slightly better, and Arya excelled above all her siblings. So the class has the strange mixture of all three high school age Stark children, generally sitting in different corners, and all giving Mr. Targaryen headaches by the dozen.

Class goes quickly and before she knows it, its time to face the school in the lunchroom. After finding Jeyne and picking up her lunch box from her locker, Sansa buys a strawberry milk from chipper old Gage and goes to face the music.

She gulps in a large breath of air before turning to observe the rest of the lunchroom. Margaery waits at their usual table on the far end, but first she has to walk in front of the rest of the school to get there. Jon and Robb are sitting at the near end of the lunch room with some of the other soccer players and Jon’s friends from the Black Knights, the pop punk band he founded his freshman year with Sam Tarly. They nod as the girls walk by and then turn back to their conversation. Arya and Dany Targaryen sit with their boyfriends Gendry Storm and Drogo Dothraki at the cross country table, loudly debating the best workout strategies.

With a soft smile, Jeyne waves shyly to Theon at the swim team table before ducking her head. Her childhood crush on him has only gotten worse since they came to high school but Theon is too much of a player for Sansa or Robb to let him near sweet Jeyne.

They near their usual table, passing the band kids and the theater troupe and skirting the rowdy bunch of football players, but then Harry comes in from the other door and sits directly across from Margaery, followed by two of his mates and Cissy Stone, and Sansa’s heart stops beating in her chest for a long, still moment.

Sansa ignores the stares burning into her back and the polite chatter of people she just _knows _are talking about her and steps to the table. She’ll sit with him if she has to because she is strong enough to survive this humiliation. But then Joffrey Baratheon snickers as she passes him, and calls, “can’t hold anyone down, can you Sansa?”

They had dated briefly freshman year, a dazzling six months of her first relationship, although she had known him her entire life because of their fathers’ close friendship. He showered her with gifts and took her to the movies, introduced her to his parents, and covertly offered her a glass of wine at their Christmas party. Then spring came and he got more aggressive, with things coming to a head when Joff tried to shove his hands down her pants at a Stark-Baratheon family picnic and ended up with a broken nose courtesy of still-in-middle-school Arya when she came running at Sansa’s angry shouts. Sansa could withstand his comment, if not for what comes next.

Joffrey turns to his crowd of giggling sycophants. “She’s always been a frigid bitch. I’m not surprised Harry’s had to find his sweetness elsewhere ‘cause Princess Sansa certainly won’t put out.”

Sansa pivots on her heel. “_Excuse me_?”

He smirks and leans back in his chair, crossed arms across his chest. “You heard me. We all know there’s ice in your pants where your - ”

Suddenly there’s an arm around her waist and Joff’s entire table falls silent and white as ghosts. “Babe, you walked right by us!”

Jon presses a quick, light kiss against her forehead before taking the lunch tray out of her hands. Sansa blinks at him, stunned by his actions in the moment. “What?”

“Remember, you promised on Saturday that you would eat lunch with me.” He glances over Sansa’s shoulder at Jeyne, who looks equally dumbfounded. “You can come, too, of course, but you’ll have to talk with Robb or Sam. Sansa and I need to finish planning the details for this weekend.”

“_You’re_ going with _Sansa_?” Joffrey asks, apparently missing Jon’s death stare as he continues, “but she’s a shrew!”

Jon straightens his back and takes a loud breath. His eyes narrow even further as he takes in all of Joffrey’s crowd. By this point, everyone is staring at them, including Harry and Margaery, and if Joffrey agitates Jon enough, it could get worse. Everyone knows that he punched Mr. Thorne freshmen year when he called Sam Tarly “little piggy” in gym class. She doesn’t want to know what could happen, but Joffrey is stupid enough to fight him.

Sansa has dealt with Joffrey for the last three years. When their details of their break up got out, it lost him most of the ever-important female vote for his Sophomore Class President bid, but he had just barely made the student council as a general body representative. He had been Sansa’s opponent at the end of the last year when she ran for Vice President, and there was little doubt he would challenge her for President at the end of the year.

But Jon isn’t used to being pushed around or challenged, especially not by sniveling blond boys who get by with murder because of their last name. As senior co-captain of the championship winning soccer team and bassist for the Black Knights, he gets what he wants. And right now, what he wants is Joffrey to shut up.

“It’s not my fault you can’t hold down a girlfriend or please a woman, little lion cub.” Jon shoots back, voice steady and deep. Sansa can’t believe that he remembers Mrs. Baratheon’s nickname for her son.

“At least I can get a girlfriend.” Joffrey shoots back, and something dark shoots across Jon’s face. Sansa knows that’s not true - half the girls in the school are in love with her brother for his thick, auburn beard and sky-blue eyes, but the other half are in love with Jon and his soft lips and gentle curls. He could get one, if he wanted one, but as far as she knows, he hasn’t dated anyone since his first girlfriend, Ygritte, broke upwith him and moved up north to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea after their freshmen year.

Jon’s eyes flash as he steps towards Joffrey, who tries to make himself look bigger than he is by sitting up and puffing his chest. “Want to take this out back, punk?”

“We both know that you can’t beat a twelve-year-old, let alone me.”

Even some of Joffrey’s friends snicker - he still hasn’t recovered from Arya’s attack. Sansa smiles and sets a hand gently on his elbow, trying to diffuse the situation. “Let’s head to the table. I packed extra of Lyanna’s lemon cakes and there should be enough for everyone.”

Jon smiles back at her and pivots, leaving Joffrey stuttering behind them and Harry (and the rest of the room) staring after. Sansa and Jeyne follow after to sit at Robb’s table. Gilly Walker and Grenn scoot over to adjust space for Jeyne to settle between them. It’s generally the most crowded table to begin with, but they make room for the other girls. Robb’s eyes are careful as he evaluates Jon and Sansa sliding into their seats.

Jon sets Sansa’s tray in front of her before sitting next to her, muscular leg pressed up against her own. Even as he settles in, he doesn’t move his leg and it sits there comfortably.

“What in the seven hells was that about?” Robb asks, finally, as the murmur from the rest of the room goes up to its normal volume and the table finally turns in. “Do I need to take Joffrey out back?”

“I’m sure Jon already has him plenty scared.” Gilly says. “He look ready to darken his pants.”

Jon shrugs. “Just trying to help diffuse the situation.”

“You didn’t need to be so dramatic about it.” Robb shoots back. “Calling my sister ‘babe’ in front of the entire school is going to make everyone think you’re dating.”

“They were going to say that anyway after we show up to the Tyrell’s in matching Halloween costumes.” Jon suggests. Briefly, he sets his hand beneath the table on Sansa’s thigh and squeezes in support before turning to his own lunch. She tries to ignore the jolt of warmth that crawls up her spine. “And don’t you dare say anything Robb - that was _your _idea.”

“Ooh, you two are going together?” Gilly pipes up, nearly bouncing in her seat. She turns away from whatever conversation she was having with Sam, her boyfriend, and asks, “What’s the costume going to be this year? You always have the most exciting ones, Sansa!”

Sansa blushes crimson at the compliment, eyes lighting up as she leans in. “Queen Naerys and Aemon the Dragonknight. It’s based off a ballad from the Aegonian Era. I made the dress and the armor myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll look lovely.” Gilly says and sets an arm on Jon’s. “And you’ll be dashing, a true knight for once.”

Jon smiles uneasily and turns to Sansa. He pushes a loose hair behind her ear awkwardly, obviously trying to stop the conversation. “So, you said something about my mom’s lemon cakes?”


End file.
